and bravest blood of Spain was shed to gratify the barbarous vengeance of the tyrant and his infamous minion, who thought their victims were never sufficiently tortured unless they witnessed in person the agony of their dying moments. The banquet of the ambitious voluptuary of old was disturbed by the vision of the naked sword over his head, suspended by a single hair, and the revels in which tyranny delights cannot always be indulged with uninterrupted rapture. The fall of Charles X. in France, the Belgian revolution, the hopeless condition of Dom Miguel in Portugal, the gallant efforts made by the Poles for the recovery of their national rights, all coninced the tyrant that to save himself from a similar visitation he must at least affect a moderation which he did not feel; and, sated with blood, he was at length induced to soften the horrors of his career. The slight change in his conduct procured him at once the detestation of the monks, who still desired that the ark of superstition should be floated to triumph on the red tide of persecution; and they immediately commenced that series of conspiracies and plots which led to the expulsion of their idol, Don Carlos, from the kingdom.

The pliant favourite, however, moulded himself with all the unclean facility of an unprincipled man to the change which came over his master; and as a reward for this acquiescence, he was appointed in 1832 to the office of Inspector-General of the Infantry. It was whilst in this office that his arrogant and insulting demeanour decided the wavering opinions of Zumalacarreguy, who was then a lieutenant-colonel, and who was supposed to have entertained feelings of policy by no means illiberal. The Basque chieftain had been serving under the orders of Quesada, as chef de bataillon, when that general commanded a division in the "army of the faith." In a short time after the promulgation of the Pragmatic Sanction, Zumalacarreguy was accused of having participated in a conspiracy, the object of which was said to have been to depose Ferdinand, and proclaim Don Carlos king. He was tried by a court-martial at Madrid, and acquitted. Notwithstanding the expressed wish of the King that he should be restored to his full standing in the army, Quesada placed his name only on the half-pay list. On his remonstrating against this injustice, the Inspector-General replied, that on account of his having commanded troops in the army of the Faith, and the opinions of the ruling powers being now liberal, he had become an object of suspicion to the government, and there was no other course left but to erase his name from the active army. Zumalacarreguy's reply was rational and spirited: "You will permit me, my general, to make a slight observation : if I am guilty of a crime in having commanded a battalion in the royal army in 1823, how does it come to pass that you, who were, at the same time, my general of division, are now so fortunate as to enjoy the confidence of the Queen, and are empowered to deprive me, at your will and pleasure, of my only property, of a rank which I have earned with my blood, which constitutes my only fortune, and that of my wife and children, who have no one to look up to but me, as I have nothing to depend on but my sword, and a character which is without reproach? The only answer given by Quesada was, to shut the door in the face of the applicant: this injustice was, however, soon bitterly avenged. In five months after the occurrence of this scene the King died, and Zumalacarreguy commenced his career in the mountains of Navarre.

Quesada was named in 1834 to the command of the army of the North, and appointed viceroy of Navarre, and commandant-in-chief of the Basque provinces Zumalacarreguy had already beaten from the field Sarsfield and Valdez, together with a host of subordinates in command; and the

nomination of Quesada was considered by the government as a sort of sacrifice to public opinion. The new convert to liberalism possessed all the zealous and persecuting fervour of a neophyte, and the party to which he now allied himself held him up as the destined saviour of his country. On his appointment to the command, Quesada had assured the Queen Regent that he should terminate the war in six days; and on the eve of an engagement which took place shortly after, he addressed a letter to Zumalacarreguy, in which he styles him "chief of the band of robbers," and summons him to lay down his arms instantly, if he wished to avoid total extermination. Zumalacarreguy laughed at the bombast, and the next day beheld Quesada flying for his life to Vittoria, which he would never have reached alive but for the fleetness of his horse, and the gallantry of Colonel Leopold O'Donnell, cousin of the present general, who, with a single company of the guards, arrested in a defile the march of the royalist troops, and afforded him an opportunity of escaping. O'Donnell was taken prisoner with the other officers of the company, and they were all shot next day by order of Zumalacarreguy. In about a week after this occurrence Quesada was removed, and Rodil appointed to the command.

In May, 1836, the Mendizabal ministry fell, and Isturitz was named President of the Council. Instead of following up the policy which had been anticipated from his well-known character-he, with Galiano and many others, having been banished for constitutional opinions, and only lately restored to their country by the amnesty of 1834,-the new minister, to the astonishment of every one, manifested every disposition to return to the absolute form of government. Quesada was named Captain-General of Madrid, and he entered on the duties of his office in his usual arrogant and presumptuous manner. His violent temper brought him into frequent collision with the inhabitants; and he even went so far in violence as to offer to Isturitz to arrest the most obnoxious of those deputies who had formed the majority against the minister on the question of the dissolution of the Chamber. The government lingered on until the beginning of August, when tidings of a serious nature were brought to the capital. The fall of the Mendizabal ministry, and the retrograde policy adopted by his successor, hastened forward the crisis in political affairs, of which many unequivocal symptoms had previously appeared. Towards the end of July the governor and the military commandant of Malaga were massacred by a number of the national troops, and the constitution of 1812 was proclaimed by a newly-formed junta. Valencia, Cordova, Cadiz, Seville, Grenada, and Xeres, followed the example. Similar movements rapidly succeeded in Carthagena, Estremadura, Saragossa, and Barcelona. The news of all these occurrences arrived almost simultaneously at Madrid; and it there seemed to be the unanimous sentiment that the capital should not be the last place to profit by the lesson given to it. The public feeling could no longer be restrained; and the evening of the 3d of August beheld the first outbreak of that insurrection we have noticed in the commencement of the present sketch, which terminated in the appointment of Calatrava, an avowed constitutionalist, to the presidency of the council, Seoane as CaptainGeneral, the downfall and flight of Isturitz and his colleagues, the establishment of the Constitution of 1812, and the murder of Quesada at Hortaleza.

DON VICENTE JENARO DE QUESADA, MARQUIS DE MONCAYO, was about forty-six years old at the period of his death. His personal appearance was not uninteresting, and the prevailing character of his countenance was rather mild than otherwise; yet about the eye there lurked a wicked and

treacherous expression. He was possessed of very moderate abilities, and his acquirements were equally limited. Towards those who were his inferiors in rank or power his demeanour was haughty, insolent, and overbearing; but his arrogance was more than equalled by his fawning adulation and cringing slavishness towards those who were his superiors in authority or station. From the rough bearing of the man, the superficial observer would not suppose that such a temper as his could be easily bent to subserviency; yet the vilest reptile that ever crawled or writhed in degradation in the fetid atmosphere of a debased and profligate court, never possessed more pliancy of character than Quesada. He ministered not only to the brutal cruelty of Ferdinand, but also acted as a pander to the grossest and most disgusting vices of the royal monster. Though a tyrant in his heart, and a worshipper of absolute power, he could lay aside all his feelings in politics to gratify his ambition, his avarice, or his pride. We believe that throughout the wide kingdom of Spain there was but one man worse than Quesada, and that was his anointed master. Ferdinand was a coward. Quesada, though his blustering demeanour might induce a suspicion of his manhood, yet was brave as a lion, and was always ready to face the dangers which his outrageous conduct brought upon him. Let us also be just even to Quesada;

it is said that he tenderly loved his wife and children. In the commencement of his struggle against public opinion, he had a feeling that his days were already numbered; and before beginning actual hostilities with the people, he drew up his last will according to every legal form, and gave it to his wife. It is a weary as well as a saddening thing to dwell on the unredeemed vices of our fellow-men, and the contemplation of even one kindly feeling, however secretly and deeply it may be hoarded in the recesses of the heart, is as sweet a relief to the generous mind as the first sight of the oasis is to the traveller who is fainting in the desert.

Quesada was a bad and dangerous man, but an apt and admirable instrument in the hands of tyranny; and however we may lament the startling and inhuman manner of his death, we must yet admit that the violent man must, soon or late, meet a violent end, and that he deserved his fate. His memory is still execrated in Madrid!

TO THE QUEEN.

O SOVRAN Lady! when the choral voice

Of a proud nation rose in glad acclaim,
And the skies echoed with Victoria's name,

I was not one who swelled the vast crowd's noise;
But, in a quiet meadow far away,

I called on all things living to rejoice

In the sweet promise of thy golden sway.
For in thy reign, O mistress of the sea!
I recognise a brighter dawn on earth.
Rejoice, ye millions of the human birth!
Let shore and sea your happy songs resound;
For she, the empress of the great and free,
Is gentle-hearted, and in her we see

Truth, beauty, gentleness, with power and glory crowned.

T. P.

43

SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF CHILDHOOD.

No. VI.

It was always a cheerful day in the towns and villages which he used to frequent, when a certain lively little man appeared; he had a hawk's eye, a hawk's hooked nose, all the quickness of the hawk and much of the grace of that bird in every motion, and his motions were various and perpetual. It was not easy to determine his age; he had many of the happiest qualities of youth, nevertheless it could not be affirmed that he was young. It was generally believed that his country was Italy; but since he spoke English with perfect fluency and correctness, and sometimes almost with elegance and eloquence, although with an accent slightly foreign, many supposed that he was born in England of Italian parents. His dress was neat and in good order; a jacket and a waistcoat of olive plush, enlivened with many bright buttons of cut steel, tight pantaloons of the same plush, and half-boots closely laced in front with silken cords, each of which was duly appointed with its shining tag; a studied negligence might be detected in the arrangement of the gay yellow handkerchief that was passed loosely round his throat, and in the placing of his broad shallow hat, which stood lightly above the long black ringlets, as they clustered round the large glass emeralds that marked the spots where his ears were hidden. He carried on his back a box, equal in size to a large writing-desk, of dark mahogany, old, worn, chipped, and of a very coarse grain, but bright; and in wet weather it was covered with a tarpaulin lined with baize. When it was opened at the top, it displayed a shallow case well filled with jewellery, - glass gems set in brass, for the metal did not pretend to be even pinchbeck; to the sight and to the smell it was brass, but it was well rubbed and lustrous, and the glass was of various colours; it imitated rubies, garnets, topazes, emeralds, sapphires, and many more jewels, in seals, rings, watchkeys, brooches, and lockets: there were a few articles in a corner of solid silver, namely, several bodkins, two or three thimbles, and a small thin pencil-case: the whole was set off with white cotton wool, and cut paper of many tints; and when the box was moved to and fro in the sun, it was a pretty show. If Peter Nymnam was in company with those he could trust, he suddenly closed the box, and touching a secret spring, disclosed a deep recess crammed with specimens of the pyrotechnic art, with squibs and crackers, serpents, Roman candles, and Catherine-wheels, and at the bottom were a few small rockets.

"Well, Peter," said a good-humoured laughing footman one day, who was standing before his master's door giving the last polish to a shoe, when the portable arsenal was freely displayed, "I suppose you have enough there to blow the abbey into the air, if it was all let off at once?" Peter immediately held up both his hands, threw back his head, and assumed an attitude that expressed more eloquently than words his deep sense of the tremendous consequences that would follow the explosion of the few ounces of powder which the whole magazine contained. It is not to be denied that fireworks are dangerous in the hands of schoolboys; serious accidents might be caused by the union of carelessness and combustibles; the loss of an eye would be no light evil, no small blemish; yet their life is toilsome and anxious, even

when they are better fed and more kindly treated than is commonly their lot, for if the master do his duty tolerably well, he will compel them to learn much at an age when to learn at all is irksome. With pain and labour the poor boy acquires his repetitions, prepares, his exercises, attains to that knowledge and forms those habits of application, which the experience of ages has proved to be indispensable to the wellbeing of the man; it is not easy, therefore, to refuse him a gratification so exquisite, according to his unvitiated tastes, as watching the showers of sparks, and listening to hissing squibs and snapping crackers. The obliging Peter never denied this indulgence to a youth who was provided with halfpence, nor the luxury of a gratuitous peep at the instruments of bliss to the poor but ingenuous scholar, with a hearty assurance that at his next visit the supplies would most probably no longer be wanting.

During his long peregrinations the industrious pedlar bore not only his box, or pack, but a small organ. It was small but mellow. "Did you ever hear such a bass?" he cried in an ecstasy, marking the time with his head, as he played some tunes that displayed the lower notes; "it is as rich as cream,' -and he smacked his lips with delight as he spoke. "You may walk a long way before you hear such another organ," he would often say; and Peter was right, for it was of a soft pleasant tone and well in tune, and his correct ear and flexible wrist even gave a sort of expression to it. The selection of pieces moreover was unusually good; foreign compositions, spirited waltzes, and airs of a tender and graceful Venetian, or of a lively and humorous Neapolitan character. His temperance was not less remarkable than his cheerfulness; he rarely tasted of any animal substance, never of meat. He would indulge himself occasionally with a portion of a red herring; but bread with onions, potatoes, and other cheap vegetables, such salads as the fields afford, and the least costly of the fruit of the stalls, were his ordinary fare; his only beverage was water.

A gardener was dismantling his hotbeds at the end of the season, and was throwing aside, as unfit for use, the ripe, overgrown, yellow, seedy cucumbers. Peter modestly took up one, and inquired, with some hesitation, whether he might have it: the gardener assented, and asked what he meant to do with it; he answered, to eat it; and whilst the man stood grinning with incredulous surprise, he drew forth a paper of salt, and breaking the cucumber in pieces, he dipped them in the salt and began to devour the cold watery fruit greedily, and to express by his dramatic gestures, rather than by words, his satisfaction at the delicious repast. The spectators stared with amazement; and when the gardener had recovered in some measure from his astonishment, he drew near to the person who stood next to him, jogged his arm, and said in a whisper, with a knowing air, "This is one of your Papists; those fellows can eat any thing!" When Peter had finished the first cucumber, the gardener presented another, which he ate, but less greedily; and a third being offered, he asked permission to carry it away with him. Being told to take as many as he would, — all if he pleased, - he carefully selected some from the heap: they inquired why he rejected any, since all were equally uninviting; he showed them that many were rotten, and therefore unfit to be eaten. He had piled about a dozen on the top of his pack, and was about to withdraw with respectful bows and many thanks, when the gardener seized him by the elbow and cried, "Come, Peter, my boy, you must give us a few crackers." He answered, he was sorry he could not afford it; and as the gardener persisted in his demand, he was about to return the cucumbers, when a sudden thought seemed to strike him, and he said quickly, "I cannot afford to give you any crackers, for I have to buy them